Bed of Lies
by Goddess of Unfinished Projects
Summary: The boys stop off for a break from the rain. This is to prove to you all that you can write a lemon without using terrible words. That and . . . . well it's pretty! One shot. Elricest.


**Author's Note: This is the first thing I have written with _any_ kind of sex (which is frickin' weird because it's both incest and armor sex at the same time) in it so please don't kill me! This was entirely written while listening to "Bed of Lies" by Matchbox Twenty (an Elricest theme song if I ever heard one!). Yes, that is where I gotthetitle.I wanted this to be more than smut, since it seems that a lot of people focus on the angst or sex more than what really and truly drives the relationship. Love. Not to say love isn't mentioned in those stories, I just wanted to focus on it more.**

**Bed of Lies**

Shadows slashed the room into equal parts darkness and light. Mellow sun streamed in through dust covered windows, gently illuminating the seated figure with soft golden shimmers. His armor plating reflected all and nothing in it's dull tones, glimmering in the places where dust had yet to settle. A solid wooden floor stretched beneath him, plush with dust and scarred with time. Wet etchings on the outside of the window cast tiny trailing shadows over the floor. A puddle grew wider beneath the door as water dripped from a tank top, boxers, jacket, and pants that were slung across the top of it to dry. When had the rain stopped? An hour ago? Perhaps two? He had said to wake him then . . . But . . . Perhaps awhile longer. He needed rest in his condition.

The figure in question lay in his arms breathing slowly . . . So slowly it seemed as if he might not be breathing at all. Would he be able to tell if that breath stopped? He had no normal senses . . . perhaps he wouldn't notice at all if his only tie to humanity disappeared before him. Gently, as gently as he possibly could without nerves to gauge his pressure, he brushed a few stray strands of hair from his sleeping brother's cheek and pondered . . .

In all respects he should hate him. He should hate his brother with all of the being he possessed for granting him this half-life he led. For the resurrection of that thing that wore their mother's face. For reaching out to save him from death only to provide him with living death. But in the end he could not. He could not hate someone for a mistake made out of love.

The form in his lap shifted in his sleep, turning to reveal a shining arm of metal plate, gears, and wires. Yellow eyes flickered in sleep and lips pursed in discontent at his slumber. Soft words murmured in feverish tones echoed through the room, broken into a staccato rhythm by fits of coughing, "Alphonse . . .no . . . I . . . Please . . . Don't . . . hate me . . . For this . . ."

Softly, he quieted the sleeping form, "No brother, I won't. It's all right. Remember . . . I could never hate you."

He adjusted the red coat he'd retrieved from his brother's battered suitcase to fit more snugly around the naked figure in his lap. The brilliant red was fading now around the edges with so many years of sun and weather, but it was still as soft and warm as ever . . . He hoped.

"Not for what you've done to me or for what you want to do with me." he admitted the pardon to his slumbering brother without fear. He was long past such fears and worries. Now that he knew of Edward's feelings, it was time to release his own.

Edward's body trembled in a sigh and curled tighter in on itself, as if trying to shut out this blatant acceptance, trying to shut out the unconditional love he didn't believe he deserved. A leather glove stroked the top of his head, trying in the only way he could, to provide comfort for his brother's restless dreams. Eyelids slid open slowly, this time remaining open to look up into the light within the armor's helm, "A-al?"

"I'm here, brother."

"Did you . . ." there was hesitance in Edward's voice, something rarely heard from his lips, "did you say something?"

The moment stretched into a long silence as Alphonse judged his brother's face. He had always been capable at reading Edward's emotions, one talent he hadn't lost in this form. He knew that Edward had heard, he only asked to be certain Alphonse meant it.

"Yes, brother." the answer echoed lightly throughout the dusty room, the abandoned remains of a house they had found for shelter.

A tiny shudder rocked the older boy as he sat up in Al's lap, "I-Al, how did you know?"

The answering chuckle seemed out of place but escaped from Alphonse before he could stop it, "Brother, you've always talked in your sleep."

An intense blush colored the pale of Edward's cheeks as he moved to stand, "We better get moving, now that the rain's stopped we should be-"

Two huge metal arms encased him, preventing his escape. Turning his face to look at his brother's helm he remarked, "Al . . . I don't want to talk about this."

"You don't have to. I just don't want you to leave yet." the reply was soft and gentle, as it always seemed to be when addressing him.

"Why not, we need to get going." Edward replied, trying to push his way from Al's arms.

"Because, your clothes haven't had time to dry yet. You're only going to get sicker pushing yourself like this."

The snide comment was so soft Alphonse almost mistook it for a cough, "Sicker? I'm already sick enough . . ."

Snagging the coat, the armor hands quickly wrapped it around the smaller sibling, trussing him up much as one might swaddle a baby.

"AL! What the hell are you doing!" Ed protested but it was a far cry from his usual boisterous tirades.

"You're not going anywhere until you're fully rested. I already had to carry you here from Central. You need time to heal brother!"

Surprised by this sudden turn of events, the elder Elric looked up into his brother's impassive face and snapped, "Heal my body or my mind?"

The helm's eyes dimmed slightly at these implication of those words. As if in reply, the room darkened as the clouds of earlier returned to share their burden of tears. Softly, one leather hand placed itself on Edward's bound chest, massaging gently.

"Your body, brother. There's nothing wrong with your mind." as tenderly as possible, the hand moved in slow circles across the small muscled torso.

Edward protested at this, "Nothing wrong? I'm sick Al! I-I want to . . ." he shook his head and tried to pry Alphonse's hand from his chest to no avail, "What sort of bastard wants to have sex with their own brother?"

The hand halted in it's motions before trailing up to caress Edward's cheek, "When you lose something important to you, you try to get it back. It's only natural that in it's absence and in your search you come to love it even more than before."

Ed stared at the helmet above him, "But-Al, I . . . I don't understand . . . Why . . ."

He fell silent as the hand returned to massaging his aching chest. Reflecting on what Alphonse had said, he settled back into the cradle of his brother's legs, wrapped securely in his coat.

"Because I know how you feel brother." the echoed reply was accompanied by the hand slipping inside the jacket to massage the bare chest gently.

Edward jumped in surprise at the sudden motion and shook his head, "Al, no. You-I've already screwed things up enough without th-" the protest dissolved into a fit of coughing.

The hand simply shifted it's circular movements into a gentle sliding of the fingers over the bare skin.

"Brother, you made a mistake once and you paid the price. That doesn't mean you should think everything is a mistake." he replied, "Now calm down, you're just making yourself worse."

Shivering at the touch, remembering the tiny body that used to rest with his own, Edward murmured, "But I can't-Al, I can't do anything for you . . ."

"Brother . . ." the soft voice elicited a look from the prone boy, "For now, being able to do this is more than enough."

The elder brother whimpered as the gloved hand traced downwards on his body, running softly over his hips and brushing against more sensitive areas. Giving in to the proffered affection, Edward's body went limp, resting against Alphonse's metal thighs cushioned by his coat. Softly, those hands traced patterns on his skin as the rain returned full force outside. How a body of steel and leather could grace such a touch was beyond Edward's comprehension. The fingers tripped and stumbled over his skin, a tribute to Al's unintended ignorance of the human sex drive. But as they often say . . . Ignorance is bliss and for once, Edward could see the truth in the phrase. It wasn't expertise or talent he needed now, it was Al's touch, to know that the hand closing around him belonged to Alphonse.

The younger sibling observed his own actions with silent longing. Without sensation or pleasure of his own, he had to focus his attentions entirely on Edward's form, now taut across his lap. Switching glances from face to hand, he noted what seemed to please Edward most, and strove to improve it. All the while marveling at the complexities of that which lay before him . . . his brother's body. As he recalled, it had always had a soft quality to it in spite of the muscles beneath the skin. He tried to remember everything about before. How he had smelled, felt, tasted (known from little-brother-gross-out-licks), how soft his hair had been . . . One day . . . One day this would be fully his . . .

Out of habit or fear of discovery Edward found himself clenching his jaws to hold back the sounds straining to burst forth. His body involuntarily jerked and twitched as Alphonse continued to stroke him tenderly. The glove was large and easily engulfed him in it's grasp, surrounding him in a way his own hand couldn't. With a whispered moan, he panted his brother's name. Leaning down ever so slightly, Alphonse replied, "Let it go brother . . . No one can hear you here . . ."

Edward needed no further encouragement. With a loud cry he thrust against his brother's hand, propping himself up with his automail. His mind was flooded with images, images of Al, the sound of his voice, how it was and how it could be in the future. Eyes of captured sun squeezed shut as he neared that edge, the edge of heaven, "Ah . . . Al . . ."

At the thought of Alphonse fully restored once more and with him, his head jerked back and a spurt of liquid blanketed the glove, "Alphonse!"

With a trembling moan, his body collapsed back into the comfort of his brother's lap. Staring up into the helm that housed his brother he sighed and rested his reddened face against the chest plate, allowing the cool metal to draw in the heat from his face.

"Al . . ." he closed his eyes, "What have we done?"

Carefully, Alphonse used Ed's coat to clean off his hand as well as Edward, "Nothing that we didn't want to do."

Pulling the coat close around him Edward curled in on himself, "Alphonse . . . You wanted to?"

An echoing chuckle reverberated through his metal pillow to drown out the blood pounding in his ears. Blinking in surprise, he tilted his face up to look in his brother's eyes, though he knew he would see none there.

The helm tipped down in his direction, "Brother, why else would I have done that?"

"Because . . . I don't want you doing it for my sake or because you're my brother or-" Edward's rant was cut off by a simple echoing reply.

"I did it because I love you Ed."

The sound of the rain ruled the moment as Edward's world fell apart, "You . . . What?"

"I love you."

Edward tried to piece together his thoughts in vain. Afterglow was fading rapidly as he tried to process this new information. Al what? Al loved him? How? How had it happened? More importantly why was this shocking him more than the damnable thing he'd just assented to? He supposed it was because love wasn't something he could explain, something he could pin. It refused to be broken down. Sex was science, it was a biological function, it was a process, a task, something that had a purpose . . . Though he hadn't thought that just now. When Al had held him his only thoughts had been for Al.

In fact, in all his fantasies, those horrible dreams he desperately tried not to remember, those were all about Al too. All about welcoming him into his body, giving him the pleasures he'd missed out on for far too long. Was that love? He knew he had a sick attraction to his brother but . . . Love? Was that what you called this? Suddenly, he recalled that moment when he'd seen Al shatter at the hands of Scar, the Ishballan murderer. His only thought, his only drive, had been to attack the man, to get the man whom he thought had killed his brother. He remembered pulling Al back from the Gate, reaching for him, he recalled the time Al had questioned the truth of his making . . . every time his thoughts had been for Al. Only Al. Perhaps . . .

* * *

"Brother?" the question was metallic and ringing, jarring him from his thoughts . . . Dreams? Where was he anyway?

"Huh?" he asked, looking up.

"Did you fall asleep on me?"

"I . . ." the light had changed again, how long had he been asleep?

"You did." the answer was a chuckle.

Sitting up, Edward blinked at his nude self for a moment before blushing, had he dreamt it? Or had it . . . Oh no. . . Oh thank God, he hadn't . . . Oh but why couldn't he **have**?

"Brother, you're clothes are dry I think if you're ready to go." Al remarked, pointing to the door.

Coughing a little to cover his blush, Ed rose, the coat tucked neatly around him, "Yeah . . ."

There was a clanking sound behind him as his brother rose and handed him down the clothing that rested on the door, just out of his reach. As he reached for his boxers Alphonse spoke, "It's a shame you have to put those back on brother . . ."

Edward's hand froze in the air, "What?"

Al leaned forward a little and Ed could hear the smile in his voice, "It's just . . . I don't get to see you like this often . . . I like it."

Edward blushed intensely . . . What was this? Had it . . . Oh please no . . . Let it be yes . . .

A mischievous tone threaded through with uncertainty continued, "But I guess after what happened earlier . . . I'll be seeing this a lot more?"

A sigh rocked Ed at this comment, he had, it did, he knew . . . A smile crossed his face as he looked up to Al's, "Only if you-"

Before he could finish a pair of armored hands had swept him up and cradled him, much as he recalled Al cradling Nina, to a broad breastplate.

"Yes Ed. I do." Al replied, placing one large and gentle hand on his cheek.

The smaller sibling rested in his brother's arms, discontent in his decision. They couldn't very well continue as they had earlier, it would mean questions, problems, complications . . . And, of course, should Al ever get his body back . . .Edward mentally slapped himself. He **would** have his body back. And thinking of this as anything but a certainty was a small betrayal in itself.

A rough shake drew Edward out of his reverie.

"Brother, stop it." the voice was harsh and demanding, not a tone that Alphonse often took with anyone, especially his brother.

"What?" Edward looked up.

The voice softened in response as his hand awkwardly brushed aside strands of hair, "Thinking so much . . . It only makes you unhappy."

"Al, I just-"

The helm slowly shook back and forth, "No."

"But Al, it's-"

"Brother." the comment was a warning.

"Al! You're not listeni-" Ed was cut off by a large finger being pressed to his lips.

"Ed. Stop it." the voice took on a gentler tone, "When I get my body back I'll be able to stop those thoughts in a _different_ way!"

Edward blushed at the implications of his brother's remark, "Al . . ."

"Brother . . . I want this. You want this. And it's something we can have if we're careful. It's not like we'll be hurting anyone."

"Anyone but ourselves." Ed remarked bitterly.

"Don't be like that." the younger said softly, "Feeling has never hurt anyone."

Ed sighed and laid his head against his brother's chest for a moment before murmuring sadly, "Well, what the hell huh? It's not like you can be damned twice . . ."

"Damned isn't the word for it brother . . ." the voice was whispery and light, bearing traces of melancholy in its wake.

Head bowed, his face pressed to the now warm metal, Edward remarked cynically, "Then what is the word for it, Alphonse?"

Voice softened with affection, Alphonse replied, "Love."

A blonde head lifted it's face covered with tears and a rueful smile, "Yeah, Al . . ."

* * *

The room was slashed with shadows, equal parts darkness and light. A puddle dried beneath the door, a tribute to the morning rains. The only mark of passage was the clean path slicing through the filth that covered the floor ending in a nest where two had bedded down to weather the storm. The moon's radiance seeped in through the grime on the windowpanes, illuminating this den of lies. The very dust was thick with them, shed and empty husks of denied pleasures. Painful ghosts of forbidden love. Lies that had been worn both as armor . . . And by armor. 


End file.
